Why Even Our Downtime Feels Like an Achievement Huntby Angie Petrie
If you pause for a moment and look around, it’s easy to see how our world has grown ever busier; so much so that even our attempts to relax reflect an underlying need for control and accomplishment. The simple act of noticing, once a gentle observation, now risks becoming another item on our never-ending to-do list.
There’s an odd humour in how leisure activities have become gamified. The average adult’s relaxation morphs into a competitive reality show, where the Sudoku marathon and the race to finish a jigsaw puzzle before noon serve as proof that we’re winning at unwinding. Meditation apps prompt us with new levels, fitness trackers offer badges, and every folded towel feels like a bonus round in life’s secret tournament.
Our brains crave that spark of pleasure, dopamine, when we complete a goal, even one as minor as finishing a crossword or reading a book. Have you ever written a to-do list where you have added something you've already achieved that day? This blog will be on mine this morning. This desire doesn’t disappear during downtime; instead, it sneaks into our leisure, transforming rest into its own achievement system. There’s genuine satisfaction in ticking off a box, earning a digital badge, or simply winning at “relaxing.” Yet, there’s a gentle irony here: the more we strive to unwind, the more we end up pursuing achievement, as though peace itself were a prize to win. Our efforts to relax risk being measured, judged, and compared, both to others and, importantly, in the stories we tell ourselves.
Imagine, for a moment, releasing your grip on the scoreboard. What would relaxation look like if it didn’t need to be tracked or rewarded? What if the joy of playing a game or solving a puzzle was found in the experience, not the outcome? Could we let some tasks remain unfinished, enjoying the open-endedness of leisure for its own sake? There’s wisdom in letting the story remain incomplete, the puzzle missing its final piece. In this frame, laughter and presence become the ultimate goals. Our cat, napping through it all, might be the real champion of relaxation; a reminder that sometimes the best victories come in the quietest forms.
The next time you orchestrate a high-stakes solo game night, pause and ask; What am I really seeking? Is it the thrill of achievement, the dopamine rush, or simply a moment to notice and be? The greatest accomplishment, perhaps, is not in winning but in being wholly present for the game, the pause, the breath. Award yourself a metaphorical trophy; a stone, a shell, or a badge for “Noticing the Obvious.” In life’s subtle contest, the quietest players often have the most fun.
As you explore your journey of noticing and presence, consider inviting simple objects into your day: a stone, a feather, a shell, or a button. Let these companions anchor you, not as markers of progress but as invitations to slow down and inhabit the moment.
In the end, the art of noticing is not about clocking achievements but about celebrating the small, the still, the simple. Let the stone rest on your bedside table tonight; a silent witness to your day. Tomorrow, greet it again with gentle joy, and remember: sometimes, the quietest companions teach us the greatest lessons.